<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Secret Hoard by SnowAwesomeGal</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700981">A Secret Hoard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowAwesomeGal/pseuds/SnowAwesomeGal'>SnowAwesomeGal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Balan Wonderworld (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blankets, KFT (Kentucky Fried Tims), and its briefly mentioned so dw no tims are harmed, oh and Lance uses they/them because i dont think theyre officially referred to as he/him, stuffed animals, thats a joke in a discord server</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:34:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowAwesomeGal/pseuds/SnowAwesomeGal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance got a new goodie for his collection and wants to relax in peace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Secret Hoard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was just a simple room. Wooden walls, with wooden floors, with a wooden ceiling. Everything was just bare. Only a fabulous finish on all the walls and the floor and the ceiling that they did not choose. No nearly invisible windows or a dirtied glass screen to see into the outside world and get a little glimpse into people’s lives. A simplistic looking fan hung from the wooden ceiling. Adorned with a little golden finish, it spinned around slowly, providing a small breeze for the one who was in the room.<br/>	No one was ever allowed in their room. Only their minions were allowed, and even then those minions were under their control. They had near absolute control over who entered their room, let alone see what secrets lay inside it.<br/>	Today was a special day for them. They managed to sneak out of the theater and the maze its old and worn hallways created long ago. And in their clawed hands and angular arms, they held a prize. A new addition to the secrets inside their room.<br/>	They stalked around the well-used hallways, doing their best to make sure their worn, golden heels made almost no sound against any of the creaking teak floors. The way they moved across the floor seemed like they were dancing in a beautiful ballroom with their partner held close in their arms. Long ago they had memorized which floorboards creaked, even the ones that lay beneath the faded red-velvet carpet.<br/>	Finally, their door was in front of them. It stood out slightly, especially with the clean metal sign that hung from it. They remember the day they received it. It must have been decades ago when it was generously gifted to them by a visitor. It was a dark silver with a gold engraving, and they could not even understand how much the handcrafted sign even cost the visitor. It had a beautiful golden embossing surrounding the perimeter of the already beautiful sign, imitating their markings that lay on their body. But then again, they rarely left the theater or even interacted with people. So they were quite isolated from others and quite unaware of the world that lay outside the ancient theater’s walls. Socialization was not one of their strengths. Isolation was definitely what they preferred as one of their best assets.<br/>	They put their hand on the doorknob, looking to their left and right as if they were crossing a hectic intersection. Their cat-like eyes scanned the area for anyone who might see them and their treasured item. Satisfied that no one would catch sight of them, they slinked into their room, quickly and stealthily, glowing irises and tendrils and all. And the door quietly closed behind them. They had been grateful for the staff oiling the hinges and respecting the “No Entry Allowed” paper sign they nailed to the door.<br/>	Now inside their room, they let out a soft sigh. In front of their feet lay a single stuffed animal with its glass eyes staring off into an unseen distant place. They gingerly lifted the stuffed animal and held it in their arms, careful to not accidentally rip it open with their sharp claws. They moved towards the furthest corner of the room, floating gently over old and heavy quilts, some hand-made with needle and thread and some created with the hands of machines.<br/>	As they moved soundlessly over the miniature mountains for cloth, the quilts changed to fluffy blankets. Each had a memory behind it. For some, they snuck out and bought themself, while the others were gifts from visitors or a few staff members. After all, they played the villain, the darkness and the negativity. Who would want to be thankful to the antagonist of their story, anyway?<br/>	Nevertheless, they treasured each and everyone of them and made sure to care for them as thanks and tribute to them, even the ones that had left the lands long ago.<br/>	Sooner than they would prefer, they reached the corner of the room. The corner held a large mattress. They saw no need for a bedframe, especially since it would be covered by all the quilts and blankets. They did not like when something was useless, it was just a waste of precious resources and space.<br/>	They sat down on the deceptively fluffy blankets and heavy quilts that adorned the mattress. And around them were dozens of stuffed animals. Each of them was unique, having witnessed different eras and made of different material. He could recall the stuffed bear in his hand being from a poor girl over a hundred years ago. She had poured all her trust and love into that bear, and parting with it only to give it to them struck them at their core. And they promised to treasure it like the rest of the animals. They placed the bear next to the single-eyed beaver, adjusting both until they were to their liking.<br/>	They held out their newest addition to the collection: a brightly colored unicorn. Normally, they wouldn’t care for cheaply made items, but this one stood out. When they were in the supermarket, shopping for new kitchenware, they spotted the unicorn, sitting alone on a shelf. They had checked over the unicorn, seeing if there was possibly any way to identify its owner. There were no tags on it, and he felt the small remnant of the instruction tag near its rear. Their face dropped even more at feeling that, since it would now be nearly impossible to reunite it with its owner.<br/>	But then, he sensed something. There was a lot of sorrow attached to this unicorn. Its holographic fabric horn and cartoony eyes and smile contrasted the emotions that were attached to it. And they immediately felt a connection to it. And it was then they decided to take it with them. After all, if the immense amount of pain and sadness emanating from the stuffed animal were anything to go bye, the owner would drop by the theater soon.<br/>	They cocked their head slightly, trying to figure out where it should sit. It would need to feel comfort, but stand out enough so that if its owner comes by, they can easily grab it and return it without disturbing any of the other stuffed animals.<br/>	Eventually, they decided to place it right behind the stuffed bear, on a section of a blanket that was slightly elevated and made its eyes peek out from behind the bear’s fluffy head.<br/>	They were finally satisfied with the placement of everything. They settled down and laid back into the fluffiest and softest blanket they had. With one hand, they grabbed a heavy quilt and wrapped it around their sharp body. They couldn’t help the purrs that escaped them, but this time they didn’t mind. No one would be able to hear it anyway. They closed their eyes.<br/>Suddenly, three sharp knocks on his door echoed around the room, shattering the peace they desperately wanted.<br/>“Lance!” called out Balan, who was the one who knocked on the door. “Did you break the microwave again?”<br/>“No, you buffoon! I didn’t even touch it today!” Lance snapped back.<br/>“You tried to microwave my Tims yesterday, calling it ‘KFT!”<br/>“Yesterday is not today! Leave me!”<br/>They groaned in annoyance and frustration. Was peace and quiet alone in his room so hard to achieve?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well... looks like my other bww fic is dead...<br/>So hope you enjoyed this one. I certainly had fun writing it :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>